Writing From in the Fog

the front porch finding sundays at home small

It is thick – the fog. It is a literal thickness that surrounds my brain and life. I am writing from in the fog.

For me it isn’t the result of depression or grief.

It rolled in heavy at the end of my pregnancy and then flooded me over as I faced the aftereffects of a pulmonary embolism.

It is not relenting. The fog has a firm footing and now I learn it is another symptom of this autoimmune disease that has taken claim to my body.

Like pea soup. Or molasses in winter.

I am wading through the murk.

My brain is mush.

And it is not likely to be clearing out anytime soon.

fog over water path

I know I am not alone in the fog. I can hear distant voices or maybe they are near either way it is hard to tell in the mist.

Their sounds are a mere muttering and garbled mumbling to my ears.

But it is a relief to I know that I am not alone in here.

I also have my children and my husband – this family we are daily becoming. We are all here together.

My family meets me in my lack. They finish my sentences and give my hand gestures, stuttering, and frustration – words.

They are giving words to the writer. Isn’t that supposed to be my job?

And we are crafting a story together.

This is the unexpected journey I’ve been talking about.

I am pressing through to find my life – pressing through pain and brain fog to write the words anyways.

If I don’t write them down, if you don’t quickly type out the words on screen – the fog will eat them .

Writing from in the fog is a bitch.

The fog is a thief.

That is why I am so glad I am not alone out here.

there is laughter in this houseSelf Love is OK

I have taken up allowing my people to help me. This is not easy. I feel like I am slacking at my job.

Even though I often feel like an idiot when my six year old finishes my sentences, I can be grateful he knows me well enough to finish what I can not end.

Even though we laugh at my twisting of idioms, taking forever to find a word, and then choosing the wrong word anyways – there is laughter in this house every single day.

We have the ability to laugh together. I am alive.

Every single day we are living the miracle.

One of womanhood’s greatest traps is the lack of self-care and self-love.

We rush around taking care of the needs of everyone around us. We forget to slow down and with intentionality take care of ourselves.

Womanhood requires self-love. To be effective. To be fully present. To be available as the best mother and wife and woman that I can be – I have to love myself enough to take care of me…. first.

  • Physically
  • Emotionally
  • Spiritually

I am not merely talking about brushing my hair and teeth, getting a shower and dressing every single day so that I feel human.

I am not talking only about exercise and what food I put into my body.

NO – I am talking about the deep soul care that every human being requires to function in wholeness and life.

A woman can not function fully if she is not intentional about her own soul care.

A man can not function fully if he is not intentional about his own soul care.

We need an immense amount of self-love and self-care to survive – to thrive.

every human being requires self love and self care to thrive

I know where to find self-love and self-care. I know where to find myself again. Yes, even in the fog.

I find my deepest needs are met and heard and healed and understood from a chair on my front porch.

This is that place for me.

Where do you go?

What do you do while you are there?

I pray with words. I write. I write messy words with a messy hand from a messy heart on journal pages or computer screens.

I sit in the words in the fog for days and then I write bits of what I find in here. It is hard work. It is some of the hardest work I have ever done because there is no daily applause, and there is most definitely a voice that calls me, “Stupid and Useless.”

There is no one, but the Divine Editor to read the words written across my heart and across pages and across screens.

Writing from in the fog is painful. There are days I feel crazy. And when the Hashi’s fatigue hits – I may not be able to write from in the fog for days.

It is suffocating. It is my new normal.

julia cameron quote creativity jkmcguire

Julia Cameron says, “Creativity – like human life itself – begins in darkness.

All of my current places of growth and life – began in the dark spaces.

After fracturing and loss, grief and tears that is where and when and how the most growth began.

It hurt like hell. It was overwhelmingly painful and devastating. It was riddled with fear and worry and contempt and shame.

Like the fog always does it shaped who I am and who I am becoming.

There is always excitement in the seasons of becoming.

This is me writing from within the fog.

Join the Journey,

J.

 

Questions and thoughts to consider from The Front Porch:

  • Have you experienced living in a fog?
  • To what could the fog be attributed? Grief? Loss? Broken heart? Physical symptom? Depression?
  • How do you feel that you walked out that season? Are you still there?
  • What did you learn? What are you learning?
  • What could you have done differently? What could you do differently?
  • What creativity has been birthed or could be birthed from your darkness?
  • Consider the quote below and answer these questions – What is the plot? What is your story? What part are you to play? Are you living it?

Most of us live in a fog. It’s like life is a movie we arrived to 20 minutes late.

You know something important seems to be going on. But we can’t figure out the story.

We don’t know what part we’re supposed to play or what the plot is. (Eldredge)

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